


if it hurts, make it tighter

by SpineAndSpite



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Oral Sex, Video Cameras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpineAndSpite/pseuds/SpineAndSpite
Summary: “Hey, uh, is that on?”“Hmm? The camera? It’s on, but it isn’t recording.” Ryo’s mouth twitches the slightest bit. “Worried I’m making home videos?”





	if it hurts, make it tighter

**Author's Note:**

> this fandom is pretty much made for shameless filth. *rolls up sleeves*

Ryo moves like a phantom in the dark, a glowing apparition against the black sky. Akira watches his pale throat work as he drinks. 

They’ve learned to have supplies ready--gauze, iodine, medical tape, bottles of water. Lube. A box of condoms they never use. They aren’t designed to handle the sheer volume of jizz a demon can produce. Akira would be embarrassed that he comes by the bucketful, but Ryo doesn’t seem to mind. And he’s the one who ends up drenched in it, whose guts get filled up. So, whatever. 

Ryo drains the bottle, the plastic collapsing in on itself. He tosses it onto the floor to join their clothes, then stretches back out on the bed, limbs loose and cock soft. Apart from his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, there is no indication he’d just spent a quarter of an hour spread hot and writhing around Akira's dick. He can go from debauched to placid in an instant, moods changing like stop lights. Akira doesn’t think any of them are fake. Ryo doesn’t so much wear masks as possess multiple faces.

The first time, Akira had come to Ryo and told him point-blank that he was so horny he was going to die. Or lose control and hurt someone. Rip them open. Ryo had tossed him a stack of cash and told him to do whatever he needed to take care of it, and...well. That hadn’t ended too well. 

But Ryo is nothing if not dedicated to his projects, so he had pencilled another event into his calendar at the end of the day: fucking his pet demon into blissful unconsciousness. 

“You tired?” Akira asks. 

“No,” says Ryo, although his eyes slip closed and his lips part. He’s bleeding sluggishly from wounds on his thighs and chest, and his neck will be a disaster of bruises in the morning. Akira tries to hold himself back, but Ryo says he doesn’t mind. And the only thing worse than hurting Ryo would be telling him he doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Akira trusts Ryo--he’d already decided that a long time ago.

“You?” Ryo’s eyes open. “Are you tired?” 

They both look down at Akira’s dick, which is still as hard as it had been when they got started. Demon stamina is a goddamn nightmare of a thing. 

“I’m okay,” Akira says. For now. They’ll definitely have to go again if he wants to sleep tonight. Or at least, sleep without risking ruining the ceiling. 

The only light in the room is the ambient glow of the city outside, and the slow white pulse of Ryo’s sleeping laptop on the desk. Beside it is his camera, a tiny point of red beside the lens. 

“Hey, uh, is that on?” 

“Hmm? The camera? It’s on, but it isn’t recording.” Ryo’s mouth twitches the slightest bit. “Worried I’m making home videos?” 

“Not worried.” Akira rubs a finger up and down a fresh scratch mark on his chest, left by Ryo after a particularly deep, well-aimed thrust. “Just...you’ve filmed me killing shit for your...documentary, or whatever.” 

Ryo’s eyes narrow to slices of vivid blue. “So you think I need to be thorough.” 

“Yeah.” 

"For my documentary." 

“Yeah, exactly. You probably should, like--.” Akira isn’t really thinking about what he’s saying anymore; he’s started touching himself without meaning to, running his fingers up and down the shaft and bucking up into his fist. They do this, sometimes, when Ryo gets too tired or has an appointment the next morning that involves anything more strenuous than sitting at his laptop. It’s better with Ryo watching; his attention satisfies a deep, visceral urge inside the demon. Amon--he’s pretty sure--is one fucker of an exhibitionist. 

“Ryo--.” 

Akira’s back arches as Ryo stretches across the bed, fumbling the camera and almost dropping it to the carpet. His fingers shake as he adjusts the lens. Akira’s heart pulses and so does his dick. He’s so hard, his body one enormous ache. It isn’t so much the camera--he doesn’t give a shit about being filmed. But Ryo’s attention: the hunger in his eyes, the color in his cheeks, the quick breaths, the way he _smells_. Ryo, who is doing this to take care of him, who is taking responsibility for the creature he has created. He _wants_ to watch him, wants Akira. It isn’t just duty or charity. 

Ryo raises the camera to his eye. “For posterity, then.” 

“Posterity sure is-- _nnn_ \--!” Akira bucks up into his hand, smearing slick. “Posterity sure is horny.” 

“Always.” Ryo’s hand comes out to push one of Akira’s legs down, static zipping up Akira’s spine as he realizes it’s to make sure the camera has an unobstructed view. “Humans always want to relate everything to themselves. A new species? How does it live, can I fuck it? How do they fuck each other?” His voice goes velvety soft. 

Akira bites down on his heaving breaths. “What--is that--is that why you study demons?” 

Ryo puts a hand firmly on Akira’s knees and leaves it there; it’s started to inch back up. “Hmm...just one.” 

Heat blazes up Akira’s spine and his toes scrunch into the sheets. Hearing that he is the only one Ryo wants...that’s, it’s just…

“Akira, look at me.” 

The demon pulses at the insides of his skin. He opens his eyes to find Ryo closer than ever, all white and gold, eyes on fire. He wants to throw Ryo onto the bed and fuck him until he cries, but he also wants to roll onto his back and bare his throat, beg Ryo to bite down. He doesn’t know which part of him wants what, Amon, Akira, some chemical synthesis of the two. 

“Akira, stop.” Ryo is just as breathless. “Stop touching yourself.” 

Akira growls. Ryo repeats his order, eyes stony, and Akira--speeding toward the edge of the cliff--wrenches his hand away. He shouts in agony, hips bucking, cock twitching, and for a second he’s sure he’s going to come just from Ryo’s attention. His wet, parted lips. His pupils blown huge and blue. 

He can’t explain it, but sometimes it feels like Amon wants nothing more than to obey Ryo’s orders. Only Ryo’s, no one else’s. It’s strange, a demon hungry for submission, but right now that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that his whole body is on fire, glowing from the inside out, blood pouding, back arching as Ryo tosses the camera aside to take matters into his own hands. Or his own mouth. 

That small, perfect mouth, pink lips opening as wide as they can to wrap around Akira’s cock. Akira’s hands bury themselves in his hair, thick and pillowy and threaded through with sweat. 

Ryo doesn’t resist as Akira pushes him down, mouth stretching as wide as it can, soft and wet and impossibly hot. Akira’s far too large to get in deep, but it doesn’t matter because just the sight of Ryo’s flushed face, mouth full of cock, eyes fluttering closed as if to fully savor the experience. It’s too much for Akira, for Amon, for the screaming hunger inside him. 

He comes with a wrenching growls. Some of it goes into Ryo’s mouth, but most of it doesn’t, painting his lips and neck with glowing strings of white. It looks...god.

Akira scrambles for the camera. He doesn’t know how it works--he can’t even use the camera on his phone. The phone Ryo bought for him, just like he bought the clothes scattered on the floor and the shoes by the door and the 5,000 yen worth of convenience store food he’d ripped through. Ryo, who takes care of him.

Ryo, whose cheeks and lips are covered in Akira’s come, who is rutting against the sheets, holding Akira’s cock by the base to lick at the sloppy head, sending sizzling jolts of sensation to the pit of his stomach. Back when he was human he’d let go of himself as soon as he was finished, unable to stand the hypersensitivity and the onrush of guilt at spending another masturbation session thinking about his friends. But now he likes the overstimulation, revels in it, wants more, just like he craves more of everything else. 

The demon in him wants out so badly, wants to ravage and burn and tear the world down. But as long as he has something to hold on to, he’ll be alright. Ryo will keep him safe. 


End file.
